


Seeking Glory

by dyingcowlaugh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 99 (Star Wars) Gets A Hug, 99 and Cody are bros, 99 is a Good Bro, CC-2224 | Cody Gets A Hug, CC-2224 | Cody's Name Is Kote, Light Angst, but not for long, you cant tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingcowlaugh/pseuds/dyingcowlaugh
Summary: Cody wasn't always Cody. There was once Kote. 99 may have something to do with that change.
Relationships: 99 (Star Wars: The Clone Wars) & CC-2224|Cody
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Seeking Glory

“Who are you?” Kote asked the person sitting on the bench in the armory. He was dressed in blue fatigues that Kote had not seen before and had no designation on his sleeve. The boy in question looked up from the blaster he was cleaning and considered Kote. He was paler than the latter, and the left side of the older boy’s face seemed to have lost all tension in the skin. Despite this, his eyes were bright and intelligent; Kote shifted slightly under that gaze.

After an excessive silence, in which Kote wished he’d kept his mouth shut, the boy spoke. “Ninety-nine,” he said carefully, eyeing Kote for any reaction. The cadet managed to keep his face blank.

“Ninety-nine?” he asked. “As in the original batch?”

99 nodded. “We were the first ‘hundred brothers.” He straightened as much as he was able, something like pride coloring his voice.  
Of course, Kote knew there was not much pride to be had for that first batch. They’d been a practice round for the Kaminoans; most of the batch hadn’t survived. Those that did had either been decommissioned later or moved to the janitorial staff at the facility, from what Kote had heard. However, there were a few lucky ones in that first batch. The Kaminoans hadn’t tampered as much with their genes, and they now formed the Null class. Supposedly, they were fairly unstable, but Kote had never actually met one of them himself. After the first batch had come the Alpha class. They were closer to Kote and his brothers than were the Nulls, but they still maintained that individualism and antipathy that did Prime, or so he’d been told.

“What’s your designation?” 99 asked him, and the cadet felt his eyes widen, to his shame. Immediately, his mind went into overdrive. He technically wasn’t supposed to be in the armory at all, any armory, for that matter. But his cohort started weapons training tomorrow, and he’d wanted to get an idea of what they’d be working with. He had to get a jump start on things like that if he was going to make the command track. Only the best cadets from each cohort were chosen, and he needed to stand out. That urge to differentiate himself was why he’d earned the name kote. But he couldn’t tell 99 any of that. He needed a better excuse. “Come on, _vod_ ,” 99 said. “I know you aren’t supposed to be here.” So much for excuses, then.

“What do you mean?” Kote asked, knowing full well what 99 meant but deciding to stand his ground anyway. 99 only seemed to be about three-ish growth cycles ahead of him. There was no way he could get Kote in trouble, was there?

99 scoffed as if Kote had somehow disappointed him and returned his attention to the weapon he’d been cleaning. “This room’s schedule is empty. And the Kaminiise don’t permit cadets to roam where they please,” he said, eyes never straying from the blaster in his hands. For some reason, the confidence in the other’s voice made Kote even more nervous. It wasn’t a threat, but Kote wasn’t ready to put that past the older clone just yet.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

99 grinned, still keeping his attention on the weapon in his hands. “The _Kaminiise_ don’t care where I go as long as I don’t get underfoot.”

“Then you aren’t supposed to be here, either.”

“I’m not a cadet, _verd’ika_. But you are. And, like you just said, you aren’t supposed to be in here.”

Kote froze, startled at his own mistake and how quickly it was noticed by 99. “I didn’t mean–”

“ _Udesii, vod’ika_. I’m not going to report you. I don’t think the _Kaminiise_ would care if I did.” He finally looked up and considered Kote again. “You’re starting blaster training tomorrow.”

“How’d you know?” the cadet asked, regaining his composure.

99 shrugged. “You look around that age.” There was a playful look in his eyes. “But what were you planning to do when you got here?” Kote felt his face heat at the question. He looked down and scuffed his boot against the floor. He hadn’t had any sort of plan. In fact, he hadn’t even thought he’d be able to sneak out of the barracks during his cohort’s sleep cycle. It had been far easier than expected. 99 chuckled. “C’mere, _verd’ika_.” Kote obeyed quickly, setting himself down on the part of the bench 99 had gestured to. “You probably won’t be firing anything tomorrow,” 99 said. Kote felt his shoulders sag, and here he’d been looking forward to the morning! “But,” the older clone continued, “your trainer will want you to know your weapon inside and out. I can show you that, and maybe you’ll get to shooting sooner than normal.”

Kote’s heart soared. “You mean it?” Maybe he would get an edge on his batchmates after all.

“Of course,” 99 said. “But I need one thing first.”

“Yes?” said Kote, suddenly cautious.

“Who are you?”

“Oh,” Kote said sheepishly. “I’m Kote, uh, CT-2224, but I’m gonna get into command, just you wait!”

“Of course, _vod’ika_.” 99 considered him again, a strange look in his eye. But it was gone before Kote could decipher it, and he dismissed it from his mind entirely as 99 said, “Let’s begin.”

-

Kote was working on reassembling the DC-15 when a thought occurred to him. “Ninety-nine,” he began, “what does _vod’ika_ mean?”

99 looked up from where he was working his way through the smaller pistols. “It’s Mandalorian, _Mando’a_ ,” he responded, “like your name.”

“How’d you learn it?” Kote wondered. Kote had been something one of the cadets in his cohort had overheard in the halls, but that was as far as Kote’s understanding of the language went. Plus, their trainer was nothing near a Mandalorian. He wouldn’t see a need to teach them anything of that sort.

“A couple of the trainers taught it to the older brothers, and I picked up some.”

“Oh.” Kote said, a bit disappointed. He’d hoped they would have learned it in a way that he could easily replicate, like the flash-training that covered everything else he’d ever learned. Although, he didn’t remember ever learning Basic, so maybe that hope was a little far-fetched. “But what does it mean?”

“ _Vod_ means brother,” 99 explained. “The ‘ika’ at the end means little. So _vod’ika_ is little brother.” Kote considered this.

“What would make it older, then?” he asked as he twisted two pieces of the rifle together.

“You add ‘ori’ to the beginning.”

“ _Ori’vod_?”

“Yes, that’s it, _vod’ika_.” There was a smile in 99’s voice

Kote put the final pieces of the weapon together. “There,” he said triumphantly, turning to 99. The latter held his hand out, and Kote passed him the weapon. 99 surveyed it carefully.

“Well done, _vod’ika_. It looks almost perfect.” He pointed out a few flaws in the way Kote had reassembled the blaster and how to fix them. 99 dissembled the blaster and handed the pieces back to him.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” the cadet said, after piecing the weapon together for a second time.

“But you’re a quick learner,” 99 assuaged. “It looks perfect now.”

“Thank you, _ori’vod_ ,” Kote said, considering the weapon in his hand. “I’d want to do it again, but I should probably go. I don’t want to miss the whole sleep cycle. We have hand-to-hand training tomorrow too.”

“Go on then,” 99 said, accepting the proffered blaster.

Kote waved as he left. “See you, Ninety-nine.”

“See you around, _vod’ika_.”

*.*.*

Kote began to seek out 99 at the armory almost nightly, or at least, during his own sleep cycle. He quickly found that, while the older clone did not appear much, he was a great teacher. The armory became a sort-of hideaway for the two, where 99 taught and Kote listened.

In the weeks that followed, the cadet quickly mastered assembling and dissembling blaster rifles and pistols, both standard trooper equipment. However, he was also made privy to the more specialized weapons, sniper rifles, heavy cannons, and even a vibroblade once. Through these lessons, Kote found himself agreeing with 99’s philosophy, that a good soldier was also intimately aware of his weapons and their maintenance and upkeep.

-

“What’s in the crate, _ori’vod_?” Kote asked after escaping the barracks during his cohort’s sleep cycle once again. He had effectively learned how to move around Tipoca City without scrutiny from trainers or the Kaminoans. If he acted confident and stayed in commonly occupied spaces, no one seemed to notice his visits to the armory.

“Why don’t you take a look?” 99 asked. Kote sauntered over and lifted the lid. Shiny white plastoid reflected at him as the room’s lights hit it.

“Armor?” the cadet asked in surprise and not a little bit of awe.

“Training armor,” 99 corrected. “Don’t get too excited. But this is important. It protects the best weapon you have.” Kote looked at him questioningly. “It protects you, _verd’ika_. No weapon you can carry is as versatile and useful as your brain.” Kote pulled out one of the leg-coverings lying at the top. The armor was built for someone larger than Kote and was covered in scratches and dents.

“What happened to this?”

“The Alphas got a little carried away during training today,” 99 said, looking over from where he was gathering some tools.

“You mean, you got to see them?” Kote’s was immediately enthralled with the idea.

99 gave a sly sort-of smile. “Perhaps. But right now, I want to show you how to fix it. Bring one of the cuirasses over here, and let’s have a look.”

“Sure,” said Kote. “But…uh…which one is that?”

“The chest piece.” Kote sifted through the crate and found one that had a good-sized dent in it. He brought it back to 99 and sat on the bench next to him, his mind racing at the possibility.

“Do you think I could see them?” Kote asked aloud, interrupting the explanation 99 was giving. The older clone regarded him fondly.

“I don’t see why not. But pay attention, _vod’ika_ , because you’ll have to know how to do this too.”

“Right. To protect my brain!” Kote laughed. “Thank you, Ninety-nine.”

“You’re welcome. Now, the first thing we’ll want to do is remove this dent.” Kote nodded and focused on 99’s instructions.

*.*.*

“Who’s that?” 2439 asked a standard week later as he and Kote entered the mess. “I’ve seen him around, but I never know who he is.” Kote and 2439 were the first of their cohort into the mess, having raced there from flash-training. It had been so incredibly boring, as per usual, and Kote had been itching to stretch his legs the entire time. Flash-training tended to wear out Kote’s eyes as much as it did his patience. Luckily for the cohort, it was the last scheduled quarter of the day. They had dinner and a whole free period afterwards.

“Hey, Ninety-nine,” Kote said, walking up to the older clone.

“ _Su’cuy, vod’ika_. How goes your training?”

“Great! I was the first in the cohort to move on to target practice with the pistols,” Kote shared.

2439, not to be left out of any conversation, spoke up. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Kote left us all in the dust!” At that statement, something dark seemed to overshadow 99’s face before quickly vanishing again. Kote would have thought he’d imagined it if not for the tone of the words that followed.

“That’s good, but be careful not to seek glory for yourself alone, _verd’ika_. The point isn’t to beat your _vode_ , but to work alongside them.”

2439 laughed. “It’s Kote. That’s how he got his name. He has to beat all of us if he wants to get into command.”

“Leaders help their men succeed. Don’t lose sight of that, Kote.” Strangely enough, it was the first time Kote recalled that 99 had ever said his name aloud, and for some reason, it almost sounded like a curse. “But training is going well?” 99 asked after a strained pause.

“Yes,” Kote responded, at a loss for what else to say as he tried to understand why the way 99 had said his name had sounded so wrong.

2439 didn’t seem to notice the awkward atmosphere he’d created, or perhaps he did, as he left the conversation when the rest of their cohort entered the room. Kote and 99 moved towards a more secluded corner of the mess, 99 asking him something about his accuracy during that initial target practice. The cadet didn’t hear him as he had come to a conclusion as to why 99 said his name wrong.

“You’re disappointed in me, _ori’vod_ ,” Kote accused the older clone as they left the earshot of any nearby brothers. 99 did not say anything for a moment but then turned to leave.

“Come, _vod’ika_. Let’s not talk here.” Kote followed him out; it didn’t seem as though his bad mood from flash-training would be going anywhere fast.

-

They made their way through the corridors of Tipoca City in silence broken only by the passing beings in the halls. Many of them did not even look at 99, much less at Kote, and those that did only gave a passing glance, as if the older clone were not worthy of recognition. Finally, they reached a room with rows of closets at the center and surrounded by tabletops and cabinets. It was likely half the size of one of the barracks. There were a couple of droids hovering over a table in one of the corners, but otherwise, the room was empty. 99 led them in and opened one of the closets. It held some dented and damaged training armor. He grabbed a crate pushed under one of the tables nearby and began to place the more damaged pieces inside.

“Why do you think that is, Kot’ika?” Even with the diminutive, there was still something off about the way 99 said his name.

“What do you mean?” Kote asked, temper flaring a bit at 99’s nonchalance.

“You told me that I’m disappointed in you. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kote said shortly. “When you say my name, it feels wrong, I guess.” 99 sighed and grabbed the _buy’ce_ from the crate he had just placed it in. He sat and gestured to the bench next to him. Kote joined him. 99 began cleaning the scuff marks from the _buy’ce_. Kote grabbed a breastplate from the bin and began to clean it too; it did little to assuage his growing irritation at the lack of response from 99.

“I love all my _vode_ ,” the elder began. “Too often, too many good brothers fall behind and not because there’s anything wrong with them.” His eyes blazed as he looked at Kote, almost daring him to contradict that statement. “But you, Kote, like so many of our brothers, won’t ever fall behind. You seek _kote_ that will distinguish you from the rest.” The words were complementary, but the tone, again, was not. 99 looked back down at breastplate in his hands.

“And that’s a bad thing?!” Kote said, affronted. “Our trainer says that the team is only as good as the weakest link, and that’s not gonna be me!” He frowned at 99. “It’s not enough to look like everyone else, I have to act like them too?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Kote,” 99 said, that odd derisiveness still saturating the name.

“Stop calling me that! I’m not as bad as whatever you want it to mean!” Kote – and did he really want to be Kote if the name sounded that way coming from 99? – stood, casting the breastplate he’d been cleaning aside.

“It’s not worth it.”

“What isn’t?” Kote spat, well aware of his rising voice, but unwilling to do anything to correct it.

“ _Kote_. Glory. Not at the cost of your brothers,” 99 said quietly, his voice at the same level it had been since the start of the conversation which only served to irritate Kote – and that name was starting not to sit well with him either.

“Right. Because that’s what you say I’m doing. I’m throwing my brothers aside by trying to succeed in my own training.” He scowled. “I don’t need to prove myself to you! The only opinions that matter are the trainers’, certainly not my cohort and definitely not some defective old clone!” As soon as the word had left his mouth, 2224 regretted it. But there it was. He couldn’t take it back, despite the way 99’s features crumpled as he returned to his work. And so, in a way that reflected his true age, CT-2224 fled back to the barracks, missing dinner and the following free period scheduled for his cohort.

*.*.*

It took a while before 2224 – and when did he start calling himself that again? – built up enough courage to face 99 again. In attempting to avoid him, ‘24 had started seeing him everywhere: in the mess, in the salles, and even once on his way to the refreshers. But, when ‘24 finally made up his mind to seek out the older clone, he couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. He peeked in, from the balcony, to one of the training salles in which a cohort, likely around the same growth cycle, ran through hand-to-hand drills 2224’s had during their day cycle. He leaned against the balustrade, arms folded in front of him, and absently watched the cadets below.

After a while, someone approached him from behind, and as he was not reprimanded, ‘24 ignored them, focusing more intently on the cohort in the salle. Finally, when he could no longer bear not knowing who it was, he looked back and found he was unsurprised to see 99 standing there.

“Do you mind if I join you, _vod’ika_?”  
2224 shook his head, looking quickly away. 99 stood next to him. And now ‘24’s heart was accelerating oddly. He recognized the sensation from his own combat training. It was like his body was anticipating a fight. But that was ridiculous. He wouldn’t fight 99, so why did his heart feel the need to beat faster? The cadet inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. It helped. A little. He wrung his hands, squirming under the perceived observation. The silence that had been comfortable before 99’s arrival was now suffocating.

Perhaps it was that that encouraged the small whisper from CT-2224. “I’m sorry, 99.” The words were weak and miserable and not at all a reflection of the glorious persona the cadet wished to convey. The apology hung in the air, and 2224 continued. “I was angry because…well…” and he suddenly felt it was impossible to speak around the growing lump in his throat. Why was this so hard? He swallowed. “I’m- I’m sorry, because…well…maybe you were right. Maybe I am only concerned for myself.” He turned his head, forcing himself to meet the elder’s eyes. “I’m sorry, _ori’vod_ ,” he breathed.  
99 steadily met his gaze without responding and 2224 looked away quickly, a hot prickle growing in his eyes. He focused on that for a few moments. The lump in his throat was back with a vengeance, but he would not cry. Not now. He’d already acted pitifully in 99’s presence and that had gotten him here; he couldn’t do that again.

A hand on his shoulder disrupted his losing battle, and he looked over, doing his best to ignore the wetness on his face. “ _Vod’ika_ , all I want is for you to help and support your _vode_. You are a leader; your brothers will follow you if you let them.”

“But I don’t know what that means,” 2224 said. _I don’t know how to help._ He turned his attention back to the brothers below. 99 shifted so that he was doing the same.

“Tell me, _verd’ika_ , who are the better fighters?”

2224 considered the question, then eyed the cadets below. It quickly became evident to him who the best fighters of the group were. They seemed to have sequestered themselves into the far corner of the room and were sparring with a vigor and form not evident in the other pairs. “Those two in the corner, there.” ’24 gestured.

“And the worst?”

Again, these were fairly easy to pick out. 2224 gestured a second time. “There.”

“Why?”

“Their stance is too narrow, and some of ‘em are focusing on their partner’s limbs. Their heads are moving too much. If the fight was faster, they’d have no chance of knowing when to block.”

“And the trainer?” 99 asked. “Is he aware?”

2224 found the only human in the room with a unique face. “I think so,” the cadet said as he watched the man reach the _vode_ who weren’t performing as well as the others but passing another pair who could stand a couple of pointers, too. “He does but…” 2224 trailed off, an idea occurring to him. 99 watched him expectantly. “But there are too many of us,” 2224 whispered. “There’s no way one trainer can manage a whole cohort.”

99 nodded. “Later, when they’re separated into squads, most trainers will probably try to organize them in ways that even out different levels of skill. But, even then, not every trainer sees everything. They don’t know your cohort as well as you do.”

“Oh,” said 2224. It seemed quite obvious now that 99 had explained it.

“See, Kot’ika? You already know how to help your _vode_. You just need to apply it.” 99 gave him a wry grin. “And your trainer isn’t the brightest star in the galaxy when it comes to fighting, anyway. A few pointers wouldn’t hurt.”

And although the name had lost any derisiveness it once held, it still sat wrong. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I thought you were just angry?”

“I was, but _kote_ doesn’t fit. I’m not seeking it anymore.” 99’s grin grew into a true smile at the statement.

“Come with me, _vod’ika_. I have something to show you.”

-

They meandered through Tipoca City, into corridors that 2224 was sure he’d never been in before. Of course, it was a little difficult to tell, what with everything looking the exact same. But soon, they came across what seemed to be more training salles. 99 picked one and led him inside. The room was the same size as the one they had just come from, but that was where the similarities stopped. Below them, there was an obstacle course fleshed out with droids of all kinds. At one side, a red light glowed and on the other side, rising from the floor-

“Are those Alphas?” 2224 whispered in hushed amazement to 99. The latter nodded cheerfully. As blaster fire sounded from the droids, ‘24 found himself in awe at the fluid movements and abilities of the older clones below. They were quite clearly still cadets, but they exhibited more skill than ‘24 had ever seen from any of his brothers before. They quickly and methodically took down the droids and made their way toward the red light on the other side of the course. They called out to each other as they crossed the battlefield, gathering intel and providing instruction. One trooper dashed ahead and was covered by crossfire from two of his brothers. Although he’d heard rumors of the rugged individuality of the Alpha troopers, he never expected they might also curb that to function as a team.

“They know their strengths,” 99 said beside him, as if reading his mind. “And they trust their brothers to have their backs.” A few more minutes passed and there! One of the Alphas had grabbed the pole holding the red light which turned green as he lifted it over his head. 99 let him revel in the Alphas’ victory for a moment, before nudging his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

2224 acquiesced, and as they left the room, he threw his arms around 99. “Thank you!” he whispered in delight.

“You’re welcome, Cody.” 2224’s head cocked back at the name. 99 smiled at the confused look on his face. “It’s from some dead root of Basic,” the elder clone said in explanation. “It means ‘helpful’.”

“And it sounds like _kote_?”

“Not so much that you’ll lose sight of what’s important.”

Cody felt the heat return to his eyes, but this emotion was far gentler than before. He wrapped his arms tighter around 99, who returned the hug immediately. “Thank you, _ori’vod_ ,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Mandalorian:  
> kote - glory  
> Kaminiise - Kaminoans  
> verd’ika - little soldier  
> udessii - calm down  
> su’cuy - derivative of su cuy'gar - hello (lit. you're still alive)  
> buy’ce - helmet
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated!


End file.
